Alone – 3660.018 BY
"You are likely wondering why we have summoned you," Overseer Tremel began, sweeping his gaze across the ten acolytes knelt before him.
"Fortunately none of you womp rats were dumb enough to question the order," Overseer Harkun added, sneering at those gathered. He leant against the back wall next to a red flag bearing the imperial logo, arms folded and contempt written upon his face. It had to be said that Zanleya was curious, it was very early in the morning, even by Harkun's unreasonable standards. The trial in the tomb of Tulak Hord had been three days ago and this was their first lesson since… and she suspected it was going to be different. In fact, force sensitivity was not required to ascertain that something was afoot, for two more overseers stood to one side of the vaulted and windowless chamber. The attire of each was markedly different, although both were human.
"You all passed the trial in the tomb of Tulak Hord…" Tremel began.
"Somehow…" Zanleya heard Harkun mutter.
"…and today marks the start of the next phase of your training. We have taught you the basics and you are all on your way to becoming Sith. But do not get complacent, many trials still await and there is much more you must both do and learn," Tremel continued, pacing before them. "I wager half of you will not make it…"
"Most, more likely…" Harkun countered sardonically.
"Nevertheless, your training changes now," Tremel went on, ignoring the barbed remarks of his colleague. Or perhaps they had planned this speech, Zanleya mused, she could never tell as the pair, whilst so different, worked seamlessly together. "Overseers Ragate and Rance will now teach you in addition to us," Tremel indicated the two other overseers in turn. "It is our belief at this Academy that acolytes should specialise and concentrate their efforts, becoming proficient in one facet of the way of the dark side. It is better that Sith be focused so as to be adept at one art rather than attempt to master them all." Logical, Zanleya thought, although she was curious to see where this was going. "So over the next two weeks you will study both available paths, then choose which you wish to follow. Rance shall teach you the path of the Sith warrior and Ragate shall educate you in the ways of the Sith inquisitor. I don't need to emphasise how much of an important decision this is. Rance, if you would tell the acolytes about Sith warriors," Tremel invited.
The hulking male in heavy red armour stepped forward, his movements smooth and almost graceful despite his bulky frame. Rance was an imposing figure, clad as he was in battle gear with a single lightsaber clipped to a belt on his left hip. He was bald save for a quartet of lines of closely cut hair that ran down his scalp and he sported something similar to a horseshoe moustache, but lacking any hair directly under his nose. However, even beneath his armour his muscles were clearly defined and Zanleya imagined he could pull the wings off a shyrack in his sleep. His immense physical presence commanded the attention of all in the room and his obvious force prowess demanded it.
"Sith warriors represent the pinnacle of martial expertise, we crush those who stand before us without pity," he began, raising and clenching his gauntleted fist. "We are the line breakers, the Jedi killers and the great generals. Sith warriors are masters of the battlefield, we walk through enemy barrages unharmed, tear through Jedi knights like a storm through dry reeds. If you study under me I shall teach you how to become the embodiment of war, none will be able to resist you. Your training will be harsh, but at the end your very bodies will be deadly weapons and with lightsaber in hand you will be death incarnate," Rance orated, his voice building in strength and passion as he spoke. "We are the mighty overlords, those who drive our Empire to conquest and victory. I can teach you to channel your hatred, to use the force to turn the blows of your enemies aside or focus it to unleash such devastating attacks that all will fall before you. The way of the Sith warrior is both ancient and honourable yet with the power to unleash the berserker within you."
Zanleya could see Traz practically itching to kneel before the overseer and beg him to teach him all there was to know. Several of the others were also leaning forward, hanging on Rance's every word, Anral and Maren notable amongst them. His speech had Zanleya's interest piqued, in particular the promise of being able to slaughter Jedi was appealing. However, she was also intrigued to hear what the other overseer had to say. Ragate stepped forward to join Rance, she was dressed in close fitting blue robes, her grey hair tied up in a bun behind her head. Her face was marred with both wrinkles and the marks of dark side corruption, although her red eyes were bright and gleamed with the vigour of life.
"I, however, am a keeper of the old ways; I can show you how to master the force, to bend it to your will," she began, her voice was soft and she spoke quietly but firmly. "Sith inquisitors are the undisputed lords of sorcery. We unleash powers others would deem unimaginable, crush the minds of our foes, peer into the future or create artefacts of unfathomable power. Inquisitors do not need to slay their foes in hand to hand combat as our knowledge of the dark side makes such blade work seem petty. I can teach you how to unleash force powers that can devastate your enemies from afar or use the dark side to conceal yourself and cut them down from the shadows. The force is a wellspring of unlimited potential and I can show you how to tap into it, to bend the rules of nature and loose cataclysmic destruction on your foes. Only the strongest can master what I have to offer and I will not tolerate weakness, but under me you can learn to wield powers that will rival those of the Lords of Old!" Ragate proclaimed. The air around the old lady seemed to crackle with barely supressed energy and Zanleya could sense the might she possessed.
Zanleya smiled, while being educated by both sounded fascinating it was Ragate who had her truly enthralled. The promise of power was intoxicating, this was what being Sith truly meant to her, the ability to twist the rules of nature and reality, to achieve the impossible and annihilate those who stood in her way. Änastasiä also seemed drawn to Ragate and was smiling that wicked grin of hers that normally proceeded acts of great violence. Clearly both overseers had rehearsed their speeches and had likely delivered them multiple times over the years, particularly in Ragate's case, but the effect they had on the acolytes was profound. Eyes hungry for knowledge and power were fixed on both as each acolyte began to weigh up which path sounded more attractive.
The two overseers spoke for a little longer, giving more specifics of the training and the types of powers and abilities one could learn, as well as what form the lessons would take. The more that Ragate spoke the more certain Zanleya was that it was the path of the Sith inquisitor that called to her. At length Tremel stepped forward again.
"You will now have lessons from both Rance and Ragate in addition to Harkun and myself. First, however, I wish to comment on the trial I set you. As you can see, four of those who went into the tomb did not return… four who were unworthy of becoming Sith. How they met their end is of little concern to me. Jandra excelled, he slew the alpha tuk'ata and brought Lord Claw both tusks and has thus earned his just reward, he has been taken on as Claw's apprentice." There were whispers from the gathered acolytes as they all looked to Jandra, one of the two purebloods. He smirked, enjoying the envy he was inducing. Whilst acquiring a master was not a concern of Zanleya's, the other acolytes coveted such a prize above all else, for it marked the essential step for progression beyond Korriban. She just nodded, mildly surprised it had not been Traz or Änastasiä, but at the same time, she reasoned, Jandra was also very capable.
"I wish to add something else," Tremel started, demanding everyone's attention once more. "I must remind you that murder is forbidden within the grounds of the Academy. No matter who killed who, or what transpired in the tomb, nobody is to strike at another acolyte outside of Harkun's lessons or the duelling pits," he looked pointedly at Zanleya. It was common knowledge now that Jensine had tried to kill her in the cantina only two days previously; the rumour mill ran at lightning speed within the Academy. "I don't wish to hear of any further altercations within Academy grounds. That is all I have to say for now. Rance shall expect you back here in an hour for your first lesson," Tremel stated.
"Tremel might have praised you, but fetching the overgrown teeth of wild animals doesn't make you Sith so don't start getting any delusions. You'll have to do far more than that to impress me," Harkun sneered, stalking forward. "There will be no special treatment for those who now have masters," although as he said this he was looking at Zanleya rather than Jandra. "You all have to finish your training… or die along the way whilst the purebloods, those truly destined for greatness, stride on. I will, however, reiterate what Tremel just said, if I hear of any of you breaking one of our few rules, I will make sure that your demise is both slow and painful." He gave Zanleya a last meaningful glare, as if daring her to disobey him, then strode from the room followed by the other three. A brief silence fell before the acolytes turned to one another and began discussing the choice that lay before them.
"So the little red head finally found the courage to stab something," Gremek mocked after a couple of minutes, the black haired human folded his arms and eyed Zanleya with contempt.
"Didn't think you had it in you," Maren added. Zanleya scowled at them both, clearly everyone also knew about her killing Frendric during the trial… not that that was surprising.
"Maybe I should give you another lesson on how to duel properly," Traz drawled; he had been responsible for one of the other four acolytes not returning.
"Yeah, last time was most amusing," Gremek added with a dark laugh. It was fortunate for Zanleya that her hair covered her ears as the latter had just taken on the colour of the former as she blushed with embarrassment and anger. A year on and she still had not forgiven Traz for the beating he had dealt her in the duelling pit… nor had she avenged herself for that matter.
"Go on, you should, it'd be prime entertainment," Maren encouraged. The two humans were like Traz's lackeys, constantly following him around and backing him up at every juncture. Whilst they might be significantly more skilled than mere minions, they certainly behaved as such.
"Oh but Zan and I had such fun with Frendric!" Änastasiä cooed.
"So I heard," Gremek said, although a little more warily, Änastasiä gave even him the creeps. "But I also hear a certain Jensine is without a lover, I reckon I could fill the hole in her heart!" The acolytes had formed a rough circle now, Traz and his cronies opposite Zanleya. "I bet she'd whisk me off to her room at once were I to avenge dear Frendric for her," he added. The remark was made for crude humour but the undertone of menace was real. Zanleya was only too well aware that Jensine was out for revenge and her situation would not be helped if Traz and his henchmen sided with the vengeful acolyte.
"I wouldn't mind settling the score for Yena either," Zirik added with vehemence, referring to the yellow skinned twi'lek Zanleya had refused to help and whom Änastasiä had consequently slain. Zirik was the other remaining human in the group, although he was a former slave along with the trio of twi'leks, only one of whom now survived.
"Oh really? And who would you like to settle that score with?" Änastasiä asked far too sweetly. "Me, or Zan?" Zirik shut his mouth, but his friend spoke up.
"You'll both get what's coming to you, you monsters!" The female green skinned twi'lek spat. Both Senli and Zirik had been friends with Yena and were clearly upset by the brutal departure of their companion. Änastasiä merely laughed, a deranged and somewhat unnerving sound.
"Woah, don't get your lekku in a twist, we're just trying to help the bereaved and loss stricken Jensine get some justice," Maren said. "I bet she'd rather have me though, don't think you're her type, you're all skin and bone," he teased Gremek. A cold and uneasy feeling came over Zanleya, it seemed as if everyone in the room was turning on her one by one. She felt suddenly vulnerable; Traz had given her grief in the past, but after beating her had all but forgotten she existed until now. Regrettably it seemed she had brought herself back into the limelight. Likewise, Änastasiä was no friend of hers, she had in fact tried to kill her and it had only been with the timely, or untimely depending on your point of view, arrival of Frendric that the two girls had become allies of convenience. Then that had been it, there was nothing further between them and certainly no budding friendship.
Zanleya looked round at the other acolytes, wondering who their loyalties would lie with if push came to shove. There was Anral, the closest thing she had had to a friend over the last year and a half, she reckoned he would support her. Unfortunately, he had grown distant of late as if something else was troubling him and they had hardly spoken these last few weeks. There was Zarriar, the quiet and taciturn red and black zabrak, she was the latecomer to their group of acolytes. Zanleya knew very little about her and as of yet had had even less to do with her, she had no idea if she would support Jensine or herself, more likely than not she would just ignore them all. That left Jandra, Lord Claw's new apprentice, who had remained aloof throughout their training. As a pureblood he had always looked down on the rest of them, except for the other pureblood Anral, and their current squabbling also seemed to be beneath his attention. Aside from Traz's sycophants, Senli and Zirik, all of whom were clearly opposed to her, there was nobody else, no-one else to back her up.
"I bet you won't even get to make the choice between warrior and inquisitor little Zanleya," Gremek taunted, using their derogatory nickname for her. She was at least two years younger than any of the other acolytes and they frequently liked to remind her of this. "I bet Jensine's going to get you first, or maybe she'll hire one of us to do it for her... I'll take payment in money or other favours…" Gremek added crudely.
"Stick your unsophisticated delusions up a bantha's butt you nerf herder! I shan't be dying any time soon and Jensine won't be around long enough to do anything with you," Zanleya shot back hotly. Gremek just laughed, Maren with him.
"We'll see little Zanleya, we'll see," Traz mused threateningly, the hulking rattataki smiling menacingly at her. And in that moment Zanleya felt something she had not truly experienced in a long time, she felt completely alone. Jensine wanted revenge and over half of the acolytes in her group seemed ready to side with the grief stricken girl, whilst the others were indifferent. Her master Kharvak had already made it clear that she was not irreplaceable and beyond the nine others in the room she hardly knew anyone else. There was nobody to turn to and nobody she could trust to watch her back. Her apprehension grew, worrying that if she did not do something to remedy her situation she would soon fall into disaster. An inescapable feeling of isolation grew on her. She had managed on her own so far, making her own way and trusting in Kharvak's teaching, but she could feel the tide was turning against her, the waters rising. Like a great dark sea was threatening to drown her and there was no-one to pull her out. Life at the Academy had been tough this past year and a half, but she could already tell her greatest challenge was yet to come.